Chapter 1
I’m a failure! I sigh, hanging my head in defeat. I walk along wallowing in my sorrow. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. I’m nineteen. At this point, I should know who I am. Is there even a chance that I could change? I really hoped there was but doesn’t seem likely. I wanted things to get better so badly. You did everything you could, I try to assure myself, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. It’s true that I did all I could, but why didn’t it work? I moved towns, started a new school, tried making friends, studied different subjects, and tried to put my best foot forward at all times. Everything I did was so I could have the chance to finally outrun my past…so that maybe I wouldn’t be a loser for once…but it was all to no avail. I’m no different than I was a year ago.
My misty breath rises into the air. It’s getting cold. I finally hold my head up. Oh, it looks like I’ve wandered into the park. Leaves rustle down the empty road. The leafless tree branches sway in the breeze. The sun is almost down, and the street lights are coming on. It’ll only get colder from here; maybe I should head back. Thoughts of what I’ll see when I go back fill my mind. I pull my hood up over my long brown hair. I’ll just tough it out for now. There’s no way I’m going back right now. An empty park is the perfect place for a nobody like me. At least, I’ll be able to sit in my misery in peace with no eyes will be judging me.
My head slumps down again and I start walking. Everyone says that you shouldn’t walk in the park by yourself, particularly at night, but who cares? Not me. It doesn’t matter where I’m going or what happens next. Does anything matter at this point? I’ve worked so hard this year…and everything I tried to do just blew up in my face. No matter what I did to change, I stayed the same: a failure.
With each step, that word repeats again and again. Failure. Failure. Failure. A rhythmic cadence that only solidifies my hopelessness. Why am I like this? I berate myself. Why can’t anything ever go my way? It doesn’t have to be much; just one reminder that I’m not a complete loser.
Ever since I was a kid, all I could do was make a mess of everything. My grades throughout school were barely average, despite my best efforts to score higher. I haven’t gained any exceptional skills. When I was older, I tried to work a couple of jobs. I was fired because I couldn’t meet their standards. Socially, I was even worse. My friendship skills were mediocre at best, so I was mostly alone.
Boyfriends…forget about it. Like any boy would want to be around a girl like me. I’m not attractive. My skin’s dark, but not the kind of dark that gains everyone’s attention. My dark hair isn’t silky smooth or stylish. My body isn’t sexy; it doesn’t even have the underdeveloped qualities that make a girl cute. I’m just average. To make things worse, my personality doesn’t even pull them in. Living the rest of my life alone is something that I’ve just come to accept with time.
I’ve been told that I shouldn’t be so negative. That I should accept myself for who I am. I have! Believe it or not, I have accepted some things about myself. I accepted that I will never amount to anything. I’m never going to have a family. I’ll probably be unemployed most of the time. Likely, I’ll do what I’m doing now: trudging through life alone.
What? Did they expect me to think of myself more highly just because I decided to accept myself? “Not a chance,” I whisper to myself. As I walk down the road, I pull the letter out of my pocket. I stare at it for a second. It’s hard to fathom that a single letter could end up ruining everything you’ve been working toward. Huh. Does that also mean that a single letter could also make all of your dreams come true? Guess I’ll never know.
I open it again. I read the letter over and over as I walk. Each time the printed words burn deeper into my brain, forcing me to face my faults. I don’t know why I’m torturing myself like this. I understood it the first time. The letter was clear. This belongs in the garbage with all of the junk that only reinforces my failings.
Maybe I was hoping that somehow, I would discover a new meaning to the text. I could almost see it. I would reread a particular sentence and burst into uncontrolled laughter. I’d slap myself in the forehead, not believing how stupid I was. I’d berate myself saying, “You silly girl!” or “How did I make such a rookie mistake?” I would see that what was so plainly written was not the truth. But, I live in reality, and this is the truth: not a single word was wrong. I’ve officially flunked out of college.
That is what my grandfather would call, “The straw that broke the camel’s back.” I know that college isn’t the end of the road for everybody, but it is for me. I was so sure that maybe my life would get better once I went to college. I thought that a little change was all I needed. I tried my best throughout the year, holding out for a miracle, but I became overwhelmed. I kept myself positive, thinking things would get better with time, but my grades declined every day.
I still tried my best. I stayed up later each night, trying to make sure that whatever assignments I turned in would be my best work. I even started praying…I’m not even religious! Somehow, things would get better at some point, right? Wrong! Nothing got better, so what was the point of even trying?
I can just imagine what everyone is going to say when they find out. “Jade, why are you so lazy?” “Jade, you’re such a space-cadet!” “Why can’t you be more like your cousin? She would never flunk out of college!” “How did you flunk out in one year? Were you trying to fail?” “Guess you’re going to have to get a job…oh wait. You can’t even hold a job down.” “How many jobs did you have in high school? Fifteen?” “What a disgrace to the Wilkinson name.”
It’ll never end! That’s all I’m going to hear until I finally do something that my family considers ‘good enough.’ Even then, they’ll still tease me about my past failings. They still laugh about the time I confused the mailman for a burglar. Maybe if I didn’t attack him, they wouldn’t have teased me so mercilessly. Still, I can’t imagine anything worse than going home right now.
“Perfect.” I crumple the piece of paper in my hand and throw it on the street. As the sky darkens, I yawn. My eyes blink and my shoulders sag. All of the sleep I’ve been losing to finish my classes has finally caught up to me. I look at a nearby rickety, wooden bench. I don’t know why, but it looks so comfortable. Maybe I’ll just sit down for a minute. I walk over and sit down on the bench.
It creaks underneath me, but I don’t pay attention to it. I sigh, my misty breath rising. This feels good. I stretch out my muscles and rub my neck. With each passing second, the bench feels more comfortable to the point where I don’t want to get up. Why not just stay here? I wonder. There’s no point in going back to my room, is there? All they’ll want me to do is start packing. I really don’t want to deal with that right now. At least out here, I can pretend that I don’t have any problems.
A few thoughts about not staying in the park cross my mind, but I ignore them. It’s nice and quiet out here. I don’t have to stay long, just long enough to catch a quick nap. I lie down, pulling my arms inside my grey hoodie and curling up into a fetal position.
I’m not exactly warm, but I’m not very cold. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do for now. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. The chilling air causes my nose to start running, but it doesn’t matter. With all of my bad luck, it’s not like a runny nose is that bad by comparison. I pull my face deeper into my hoodie. My breath warms my neck and shoulders. I push away all of my worries and for a moment, I rest peacefully.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice demands suddenly. I ignore it. Probably has nothing to do with me. “Hey, get up! Girl! Wake up!” Finally, I open my eyes to find a bearded man in tattered clothes standing over me. One of his fists clenches a cart of junk next to him; the other is balled at his side, shaking. He doesn’t look happy. “What are you doing?” he huffs again.
“Trying to sleep,” I murmur. I roll over on my side, turning away from him. If I wasn’t so tired, I would have reacted completely differently, but what can I say? I don’t exactly think clearly when I’m tired.
“But that’s my bench,” he whines angrily. “You can’t sleep on my bench! It’s mine.” Two hands suddenly grab my leg and jerk me off of the bench. I yell and fall to the ground.
“Ow,” I yell at him. Luckily, I caught myself so I didn’t hit my head. The suddenness of the situation and the impact of falling has pulled me out of my tired state and I can finally think clearly. I stand up quickly. “What’s the big idea?”
The bum sits firmly on the bench and glares at me. “Find your own place! It took me weeks to find this spot. Now, buzz off.” He grabs an umbrella from his cart and shakes it at me.
If I was the violent type, I probably could have taken him. He’s older than me, but doesn’t look any stronger than me. He’s a bum. How strong could he be? However, I’m not the violent type and I’m thinking well enough to know I’m not violent. It’s just park bench. It’s not worth fighting over. I sigh, dusting myself off. I walk past the bench, heading deeper into the park. I hold my head up high and ignore the obvious smile the bum wore on his face. So what if he enjoyed kicking me off the bench? He isn’t worth it. Just act like he didn’t do anything to upset you. Be the bigger person.
When I’m out of his eyesight, I drop my tough exterior. My shoulders slump, my head hangs, and I slowly trudge through the park. My face gets warm with shamGetting kicked off of a bench by a park bum; that’s pathetic. Considering picking a fight with him…that has to be a whole new level of failure for me.
